The Freedom Trilogy
by mar-isu
Summary: Freedom Release and Relief all in one nice neat little package so you don't have to go looking for them
1. Freedom

Disclaimer: Not mine. Will never be mine. George thank you for coming up with it!

**Freedom**

Lord Vader was waiting when the prisoner was brought in. Stunned and with a paralyzing cocktail of drugs meandering through his veins, the captive did not react when the stormtrooper threw him down the few steps into the cell. Unable to break his fall in any way, the young man landed with bruising impact on his face. Pinpricks of blood sprang from burst vessels speckling the black floor at the Dark Lord's feet with hints of red.

Angrily, Vader caught the trooper in a choke hold via the Force. The man gasped and sank to his knees as oxygen deserted his body. "You are lucky you did not break his neck," Vader coolly informed the soldier, tightening the choke hold to almost crushing force to demonstrate what would have happened otherwise. "The Rebels are not so easily caught that we can afford to eliminate the one we have."

Abruptly, he released the trooper who rasped a "yes, sir" before scrambling to get as far away from the Dark Lord as possible. Vader had already forgotten the man. The prisoner sprawled at his feet was of more concern. Ruthlessly, Vader's mental probe tore through the inert body, searching for anything serious. The cracked ribs, bruises and lacerations of capture were of no concern, but it wouldn't be the first time a lone Rebel sacrificed himself to introduce pathogens aboard an Imperial ship. He found nothing. The Rebel would not enjoy waking up, but Vader was hardly there for his comfort, was he?

Tugging on the binders that snugged his victim's wrists, Vader hauled the unresisting body to its useless legs. He secured the binders above the Rebel's head on the far wall of the cell, then with a jolt of the Force drove the toxins that kept his prey motionless from the Rebel's body.

Luke came to in a blaze of pain and motion. He was dodging the anticipated blows before he was even aware of another in the room. Or at least he was trying to dodge. He didn't even get half a step before the bindings on his arms refused to allow it. Looking up, he saw the binders clutching his wrists. They were welded to the wall. He tugged at them desperately earning a few drops of blood seeping down his arms for his efforts. The cobwebs still clearing from his brain, he froze as his ears finally registered the sound, like something out of a nightmare. For almost a full minute, the suck-hiss of the respirator filled Luke's mind, denying him the comfort of any other thought. He kept his face turned and his eyes downcast in the irrational hope that ignoring the monster would make him go away.

A steel grip on his chin shot that hope into the Unknown Regions along with his confidence and a good portion of his self-control. With inescapable pressure Luke was forced to look into the face of the enemy. An impersonal mask stared back at him unchanging even as he quivered like an animal frozen in the hunter's floodlights.

"You are young." Luke was sure he must have imagined the note of surprise in the voice that issued from the mask, as black as the casings and heart of its owner. "How young? Eighteen? Nineteen? No more than twenty." The grip on his jaw lessened and Luke jerked his head free of the hateful touch. Surprisingly, the black form looming above him did nothing in response. Or so he thought until the titan stepped closer. "At your age, I, too, was a warrior." The voice now was distant, echoing through the hollow space of the helmet and picking up more resonances as it meandered its way to the young Jedi's ears. The strange harmonics and the close proximity of the monster caused something in Luke to give. Drawing on the training a year in the Alliance had given him, the foolhardy Rebel kicked at Vader's stomach hoping to at least damage the impenetrable black armor that encased his adversary.

Something in Luke's right leg snapped like a dry twig as the Dark Lord brushed aside the attack with too little effort. The Jedi leaned against the wall, biting his tongue to contain the scream that begged to be released. A gesture from the demon before his face pulled Luke's left leg out from under him, bringing his body weight crashing down on the calcified fragments that should have been his lower leg. The inside of his cheek bled where he bit through it.

"You did not answer my question, boy." The cold, hard edge was back in the voice, matching the angles and planes of the mask with haunting perfection.

"I heard no question worth answering," Luke replied willing the fiery defiance he so admired in Leia to make itself known in him.

Supple black leather hid the iron grip as Lord Vader grabbed a handful of tousled blonde hair and forced the captured Rebel to stare at him. "How old are you?" he growled the question and Luke knew that an answer, any answer must be forthcoming.

"Old enough," Luke ground the words out through gritted teeth and glared challenges at the creature that now had him in its claws.

"Old enough for what?" Vader was no fool, any bit of information he could gather from this Rebel would help bring the others in.

"Old enough to recognize an abominable coward when I see one." The accusation tore into Vader's self, collapsing mental structures that should have been able to hold through much worse. A bewildered Anakin Skywalker surveyed the wreckage of his cage with stunned awe until Vader managed to rebuild the mental cell that trapped his former self. With the cold exactitude of retaliation, Vader spun a tendril of the Force to his enemy intent on causing equal damage to the fool's psyche.

Lord Vader felt his probe enter the Rebel mind, only to encounter a thick blanket of shielding the likes of which he had not seen since Obi-Wan died. The shields gave slightly under his concerted effort, and with a sense of triumph, Vader jabbed at them with a pinprick of awareness. Barely trained and uncontrolled strength shoved the Dark Lord back into his own mind, the shock wave from the impact threatening to crumble his mental foundations.

"Pedunkl!" Vader dealt the Rebel a vicious back hand, cursing the boy in his native Huttese, all other language being beyond him at the moment. Anakin Skywalker took that opportunity to escape his mental prison and secret himself in the labyrinthine mind of the Sith he'd become. Vader could not spare the attention to pursue and persecute the wayward Jedi Knight. He had an untrained Force-sensitive standing before him and needed to concentrate on the boy.

"Who taught you to do that? What is your name?" Vader demanded. When no answer came, the Dark Lord took a step back and slashed at Luke with his lightsaber. A line of fire drew itself across the young Jedi's chest, skirting the line between serious injury and painful burn.

Luke shunted the pain away, and answered viciously. "Why do you care? You killed them both." In his mind he called out to the ghosts of those he still mourned. _Father, Obi-Wan, forgive me._


	2. Release

**Release **

Alexis Kouman, probably the most sadistic of the detention block "doctors," exited the cell and nodded proper respect to the dark shadow that awaited him. "Why you had me knit that leg together, I don't know," he commented without preamble, bending like a hawk-bat to pack his case of needles back into the general supply cart, bobbing his head like the feeding scavenger he was.

"The Rebel cannot stand without it, and I have no wish to lose him because he cannot raise himself enough to breathe," Vader responded.

Kouman shrugged, bony shoulder blades threatening to shear through the waxy skin. "Your prerogative, My Lord. I personally think the wall treatment could keep him standing. He's out of it for now; I don't waste painkillers on scum." Plus, it gave him an opportunity for needle-work, his specialty. The particular blend of toxins this patient needed still had to be tweaked, but hallucinogens and stimulants seemed to be the most effective. Focused on his work, the doctor began to walk away, showing his back to the Dark Lord in a foolishly confident gesture. Invisible hands clamped down on his shoulders and spun him around. Vader silently gestured to the open door of the cell. Facial features were not necessary to read the unasked question.

The tight corner of Kouman's mouth raised half a millimeter, the largest smile his face could produce. The resulting crinkle halfway to his sharp, jutting cheekbone had all the softness of a vibroblade. Crow's feet slashed from the corners of steel-and-ice gray eyes, telling the tales of three decades as a doctor in name only. "You want to break that one, My Lord?" he asked rhetorically. "Then leave it open. The boy in there is used to close spaces and cramped quarters; what else can the Rebels afford? But the sight of freedom, within reach but out of grasp, will tear him down. Isolation isn't bothering him, so put him on display."

"I will not allow him a chance to escape," Vader objected, but gestured that the shrewd doctor say his peace.

Kouman spread his hands. "Then keep him chained. Even with the boneknit, that boy's not going anywhere for quite some time." Again, Kouman turned away. This time he was allowed to leave.

Vader watched the man leave resisting the urge to return to his quarters and purge his systems of the black grease that seemed to coat every interaction with Kouman. His master would not be pleased that he could not work with the man.

In a swirl of ebony cloak, the Dark Lord returned to his rounds of the detention block, pushing his unease to the back of his mind as he always did. If the Rebel was "out of it," than he had other prisoners to see to.

He entered the Rebel's cell after a sufficient time for the man to begin coming around. The boy hung in his restraints, but leaned against the roughened wall for support. Across his right shin, an angry red gash testified to where the boneknitter had burrowed into flesh to reset both bones and fuse them. The repaired leg held its share of the child's weight in a wide-set stance meant to provide stability and the illusion of power to the Rebel. Blue eyes, hazy with pain and burning in anger, fixed on him through dark lashes and ragged bangs.

For a while prisoner and Sith alike remained still. Finally, Vader broke the silence. "Speak," he commanded.

"Why?" came the reply, hoarse from the screams of pain Kouman had wrung from him. Darth Vader crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to answer the question. Silence again descended. Finally, the young man shifted, looking over Vader's shoulder. "You forgot to close the door," he observed.

"I forget nothing," Vader retorted. _Even when you want to,_ something whispered at the back of his mind. "I have nothing to forget." The statement was spoken aloud, but was addressed to the voice that had just spoken to him.

"And I have nothing to remember," the Rebel replied. "Nothing you would want anyway. What memories I have are unimportant." The sentence came out in an eerie monotone and Vader felt the brush of what could have been a powerful Force-suggestion against his shields. The trick lacked the finesse it needed to be truly good, but on a weaker mind than Vader's, it would have simply overwhelmed the target with sheer power.

The Dark Lord swatted the probe away. The boy had Force-training, he knew this, and the suggestion didn't come close to working. "Your alliance would disagree," he pointed out, purposefully ignoring the mental command to drop the subject. Let the child think Vader didn't notice the suggestion. Let him keep an illusion of power, the Dark Lord knew differently.

"The Alliance knows my worth," the Rebel replied, straightening his shoulders to relieve the ache in his arms, or maybe to make himself look and feel stronger than he really was.

Vader grabbed the boy's head and turned it this way and that, examining his prize prisoner in the same way that in his youth he'd seen slave buyers inspect their purchases prior to payment. Such a young soldier to already be fighting, but no younger than he had been. _You have never been young,_ the faint whisper in the back of his head refused to shut up. _You have seen too much._

"And what are you worth to them, young one?" the Dark Lord spoke aloud to drown out the mental whisper. Privately, he wondered what sort of ransom the Rebels might pay for the release of this prisoner. Perhaps the surrender of a base? or another Rebel?

"Not enough for that," the boy cut in clearly picking up on the unshielded thought, "but they will rescue me." Simple trust glowed in that statement.

"But what condition will you be in when they do?" Vader asked ominously, ignoring the part of his mind that pointed out he had done nothing but talk so far.

The Rebel squared his shoulders and met Lord Vader's eyes, seeming to stare through the mask. "Do what you want, I'm not going to talk."

"You will talk and more," Vader rumbled. Gesturing, the Dark Lord released the binders on the Rebel's wrists, pinning him to the wall with the Force at the same moment. Brief surprise flashed across clear blue eyes, but the prisoner remained silent. A thought from Vader and the child was pulled from the wall to stand in the middle of the cell, his arms still fixed above his head.

"Letting me out of the cage to play?" the boy asked with dark humor.

"Any cage that holds you is of your own making," the Dark Lord solemnly instructed, stalking around the young upstart.

"Then you are behind more bars than I will ever be," the child replied, his words finding a sad echo in Vader's mind.

With a snap-hiss, Darth Vader ignited his lightsaber, holding it at the small of the Rebel's back. "I could sever your spine right now," he threatened. _Go ahead, chop off a limb,_ his mind jeered, _like that's going to bring your own back._ He pushed the thought away and continued speaking inching the lightsaber closer to the Rebel's vulnerable skin as he did so. "What use will the Rebels have for a pilot who cannot walk? And that is what you are, is it not? A pilot?"

"I can fly," the boy answered pulling away from the blade as much as possible, "among other things."

"Ah yes, your Force abilities. Tell me, who was your master?" Vader held still awaiting the answer.

"I didn't have one," the Rebel responded.

With precision movements, the Dark Lord raised a painful welt along the sensitive skin of the Rebel's lower back with his lightsaber. "I know that is untrue, do not lie to me again," he warned.

"He's dead," the hoarse voice broke on that. "You killed him and I have taught myself since then."

"How long were you with him?" For some reason, Vader needed to know.

"Three days." That explained the crude and clumsy manipulation. "Why do you care?"

"I find Jedi are rarely as dead as I wish them to be."

_Like Obi-Wan. Like Qui-Gon._ The voice that tormented his nightmares had returned speaking of faces he had seen, voices he had heard, shadows he ignored.

_Like you!_ The Dark Lord snarled, webbing dark tendrils about the flickering candle flame that spoke from the back of his mind.

_I only speak the truth, Vader._

_You speak Anakin's truth, and Anakin was a fool._

With a slight effort, the light threw off its Dark covering. _Look to your prisoner, Vader, or lose him,_ Anakin warned vanishing from conscious sight.

Following instructions, Vader caught a mental call that, strengthened by hope, had almost escaped. "None of that, boy," he growled, tracing a line of fire between the Rebel's shoulder blades as punishment. "You are here and here you will stay, but I have more important things to do than deal with a petulant child." Things like hunting the Jedi in his own psyche.

Coming around in front of the Rebel, Vader was unsurprised to find the child almost sagging in his Force bonds. He held his lightsaber before the boy's eyes, tip almost touching the child's nose. "We still have much to discuss," he told the Rebel, "and you _will_ share with me those 'unimportant' memories."

Holding his lightsaber at the hollow of the boy's throat, Vader forced the Rebel to back up against the wall. He noted with slight pleasure the pained hiss that escaped when the injuries to the Rebel's back made contact with the roughened steel. A single thought served to lock his captive back into the binders fused to the wall. Turning, Vader climbed out of the cell.

"He's a quiet one," the officer on duty met him just outside the cell.

"Indeed," the Dark Lord agreed. "Put him on droid rotation. I have no wish to break him anew each time I have a question to ask."

"It will be done, My Lord," the officer replied with a smart nod. As Darth Vader began to walk off, the younger man reached out to close the cell door.

"Leave it," Vader snapped, freezing the man as he stood. "Let us see how this 'quiet one' enjoys the music of his neighbors."

With a smirk of understanding, the officer scurried past Vader to log the new orders.


	3. Relief

**Relief**

As the shocks suddenly deserted his body, Luke sagged against the restraints, his head lolling to the side as his neck lost the strength to keep it upright. The sudden weight caused the binders that were welded above his head to bite into already bloody wrists, but the young Rebel couldn't find the strength to care. His arms had held that unnatural position for weeks, straining back and shoulders to the point that Luke was sure his upper extremities would be permanently maimed.

The torture droid scurried out of the cell, ushering in the next phase of his 'regimen' as Luke thought about it. Groaning and shivering, Luke shuffled against the wall of his cell and retreated into himself, unable and unwilling to face the nightmare mask again. Stars, he hurt all over. _Help me, Ben_, he pleaded with the spirit if his dead mentor. _I can't face Vader like this. He'll break me for sure._ The last thought was accompanied by fear bordering on panic. He didn't want to give in, betray his friends and sign their death warrants, but if he faced the Dark Lord of the Sith like this, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold anything back, not even his name.

_Relax, Luke_. The voice drifted out of the ether, just like it had over Yavin. But unlike the battle with the Death Star, Luke didn't think he could follow the ghost's instruction. Miraculously, he went limp. His shoulders were wretched out of their sockets as he stopped even trying to remain upright. The welts and slashes on his back complained loudly as they scraped across walls purposefully roughened to the texture of sandpaper. He bit his tongue against a howl of agony as he methodically, purposefully forced every muscle in his bruised and broken body to relax.

Ben had once mentioned something about healing with the Force, he mused, his conscious mind going flaccid with the rest of him. How did it go?

_Let go, Luke._ His defunct teacher answered the question, sort of. Luke gave a mental shrug. He didn't have anything that he wanted to keep right now anyway. So what did he have to loose? He 'let go' of the pain, and to his bemused surprise, the pain left. He let go of the entrances to his mind and felt them snap shot with all the finality of a blast door. Then, beginning with his arms, he began to let go of the injuries.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Darth Vader approached the cell that held his latest catch. The door stood open, as always. With the boy's binders welded to the opposite wall, his psychologists had informed the Dark Lord that the sight of 'freedom' without the means to achieve it would strain the recalcitrant child's psyche more than containment in a closed box. Of course with an entire legion or three of stormtroopers between him and the nearest shuttle off-base, the still nameless Rebel wasn't going anywhere anyway. His escort waited two doors down the corridor and he entered the cell alone.

His breathing was not his own to control, otherwise he would have gasped at the sight that met him. He had expected the usual welcome of fiery glare and icy silence. Instead, the stubborn child that had given him more than a few headaches over the past month hung in his restraints, eyes closed and breathing as deeply as his physical contortions allowed. Taking advantage of the prisoner's unconscious state, Vader took a moment to study his victim. Tousled blonde hair was matted with blood, sweat and tears, forming an unruly mop that Vader knew would never remain in place. Lean, lanky body betrayed a child just out of his teens and taut with the passions of youth. Not even the scarring beginning to form on his pulverized torso could release the tense idealism the boy stubbornly clung to. The dimple in his chin would keep him forever young. And a face that Vader knew could be open and sincere, even though he had never seen in it anything but the blank slate of determination and the twisted mask of pain. The boy looked, Vader admitted to himself, a lot like he himself had when he was younger. He finished the thought quickly, not allowing Anakin Skywalker to rally support from memories that only caused pain in the end. Besides, he berated himself, he was here to do an interrogation, not to search his own soul.

Ruthlessly, he probed the boy's mind, and was thrown out of the mental touch with enough force to cause him to stumble backwards a few paces.

_You are strong, young one_, the Dark Lord thought at the far too silent mind of his enemy. _Too strong for your own good._ This time when he probed, he felt his prey's subconscious grab his mental hand and voluntarily pull him within the barriers it had created. But only past the first level. Once through the gates of the Rebel mind, Vader encountered another shield, stronger than the first if that were possible. The self-image of his adversary coalesced in from of him.

_Stay here,_ the boy ordered before walking off. Vader noticed with interest that the mental projection was clothed in Tatooine farmer's garb, as opposed to Rebel fatigues. Interesting. Having no intention of following the impertinent child's request to stay put, Vader attempted to delve deeper into his host's mind, only to be firmly, yet gently, rebuffed. He then tried to exit the mental 'room', and was restrained from leaving in the same way. Viciously, he struggled to leave and felt as he did so the power flowing through and out of him. He cursed in Huttese. The untrained idiot was drawing the Force through him! The child was doing something he didn't even know was possible. Unless it wasn't possible and Skywalker was betraying him. That had to be it; Vader would not admit any other explanation.

Vaguely, he reintegrated his physical senses, but was still unable to break free of the mind that held him. Vader thus watched as the mysterious Rebel used power drawn from within the Dark Lord's still Light core to erase a glaring bruise that marred his face. The boy had to have trained longer than he had been led to believe, Vader concluded. No one with only a few days training could accomplish that!

_I am a fast learner,_ the boy commented, reforming in front of Vader's mental eyes. Anakin jumped on the line and reminded Vader that he had once avowed himself a slow learner. Vader mercilessly beat the Jedi Knight into submission. He refocused on his captor, who frowned confusedly at him. _So are there two of you or what?_ The child asked.

_I am the only one you need worry about, boy._ Vader growled.

The Rebel shrugged. _OK, I'm going to be a while healing, so we can talk now._

Vader's blood began to boil at the thought of being trapped in this mind for hours on end. He recognized the technique, unfortunately. By allowing him the use of his physical senses, the child was leaving his mental door 'open' to Vader, but not giving him the means to escape.

_Feels like a jawa without a droid to sell, doesn't it?_ The other observed in his thoughts. Vader started, surprised that the boy could hear his thoughts and then at the familiar turn of phrase.

_Who are you?_

_No one important,_ came the evasive reply. _Why do you want to hurt me?_

Vader was confused, the Rebel must have just enlisted or something. No one was that naive after a year of fighting. _We are enemies,_ he stated the obvious.

The young man shook his mental head. _Enemies hurt each other on the battlefield, not when the battle is over._

_Enemies don't care when or where they hurt each other._ Vader informed the painfully innocent other.

_Then what's the point of war?_ His captor/prisoner asked simply.

_To decide which enemy rules the neutrals. Which version of what's best for them they are to be given, _Vader recited one of his first Sith lessons.

_Shouldn't the neutrals rule themselves? I mean only they know what is truly in their best interests._ Vader couldn't answer. Anakin had dragged the memory of a similar discussion with Padmé out of nowhere, and he couldn't spare attention for the blue-eyed enemy that silently watched the interplay.

_So there are two of you, _the child observed, then noticed how Skywalker was a bloody mess from too many mental battles with his darker self. Instantly, the boy's half-smile became a frown. _You're hurt. Here let me help._ Vader felt the Force flow through him reverse, feeding his own failing cells instead of his victim's. Vader brought the contact to a screeching halt when Anakin began to glow in his mind's eye. He then grabbed the stubbornly alive Jedi and shoved him back into the mental labyrinth he'd thought the other was permanently lost in.

_Are we done here? _He hissed at the young Rebel. At that moment, the boy looked so much like Anakin, it was all the Dark Lord could do to restrain himself from mental violence.

_You mean you want to leave?_ The boy asked sadly, even as Vader felt himself being returned to his own mind. _All you had to do was ask._

Vader regained control of his own body and stood, eyeing the still unconscious, but now mostly healed prisoner slumped against the wall. That entire exchange should never have happened. The Dark Lord submitted only to his master, yet an unknown child had brought the Sith to his knees. He turned to leave then thought of one last thing. _Are you the Rebel who destroyed the Death Star?_ He had to know if this was the same presence that he'd felt above Yavin.

A mental shrug. _Yeah, you already recognized me, so what's the point of denying it?_

Vader exited the cell; at least he'd gotten something out of the child. On impulse, he reached up and closed the cell door, giving the captured Rebel total privacy for the first time in a month. He then returned to his quarters for the night, and tried not to think about why the constant pain he'd lived with for twenty years had suddenly dulled.


End file.
